


Screaming Infidelities

by orphan_account



Category: Olympics RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Arguing, Drabble, Infidelity, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:43:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snapshot of Conor's rocky relationship with a certain curly haired Floridian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Screaming Infidelities

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from a song of the same name by Dashboard Confessional.

* * *

Conor has come to understand that there is no greater anguish in the world than staring at a cell phone in the wee hours of the night, praying to every god there ever was that it would just fucking ring already. He understands this because this is what his life has become; what he’s become.

The person waiting by the phone.

The good boy left at home with a broken heart.

That’s who Conor is now…. and Ryan is the one who made him this way.

\--

“Go take a shower,” Conor hisses as he practically drop-kicks Ryan out of bed when the older swimmer comes sneaking in at one in the morning reeking of women’s perfume.

Nicki Minaj’s _Minajesty_ ; the signature scent of ratchet-ass bitches everywhere.

“Fuckin’ _ow_!” Ryan exclaims as he gets up from where he has fallen, nursing a rug-burned elbow. “Conor! What the fuck…”

“Don’t you even dare start shit with me right now,” Conor seethes, flinging back the bed clothes and rising to his feet to stand toe to toe with Ryan. “You are not getting in this bed, _our bed_ , smelling like tequila and barely legal quim. Now, go take a fucking shower so I can lay down and pretend you didn’t just get back from cheating on me… _again_.”

Ryan heads off to take a shower with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs and Conor gets back in bed, shuts his eyes tight and buries his face in his pillow.

After all, Conor’s philosophy on crying has always been that it doesn’t count if no one sees your tears.


End file.
